


death almost did us part (i never meant it to be this way)

by N1VA



Series: old stuff new exposure [17]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, The LEGO Batman Movie (2017)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, No happy endings, not much else to say, pretty dark with this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29275854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1VA/pseuds/N1VA
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Series: old stuff new exposure [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149803
Kudos: 16





	death almost did us part (i never meant it to be this way)

Bruce landed punch after punch after punch to the man laying despondently and worryingly quiet beneath him. Worrying, because it was Joker. Joker, who normally would be full of vitality and spunk and rage and the fires of hell dancing in his eyes. Tonight there was none of that. There was only Joker himself sprawled out on cold wet concrete, not bothering to lift even a finger to defend himself.

Bruce’s knuckles were bloodied and bruised. Joker’s face looked far worse, completely soaked in his own fluids, with his eyes already black and puffy, his lower lip slightly swollen. Yet, Bruce wasn’t stopping. He had no agency over his muscles. He was unaware of the deep growling coming from his chest, sounding like a rabid animal in his rage. His pupils had expanded, the dark brown iris normally surrounding them around them seemingly absent.

He may have very well snapped. Bruce had been so tightly wound, so repressed in his desires and wants and needs, that when it did burst free, it was a flood instead of a mere trickle. It felt so good to finally let go of himself that he didn’t bother attempting to rein himself in. His hands found free flesh, and he wrapped his fingers around it, squeezed tightly. Not even the slight crunch he heard under his palm deterred him. Everything was pulsating red and comforting black and shifting white spots before his vision.

Hands clawed at his chest, pushing as hard as they could. Joker jerked his entire body in a desperate attempt to throw Bruce off. He grabbed the mans wrist, trying to pull his fingers away from his throat. Finally, Bruce loosed his grasp. 

Joker wheezed as he struggled to catch his breath. He realized with a sickening rush of guilt and shame what he’d done. What he had taken great pleasure in doing. He stared down at Joker. He was off of him in less than a few seconds. The man truly looked seconds away from death.

Bruce scrambled back as quickly as he could manage. He was terrified of what he almost did. He’d damn near killed the Joker in his blind fury. Deep pink hand prints stood out against bright white skin.

“No… no, no, no, no, no…” Bruce whispered in shock. Shock at his own actions, shock at the state he’d left Joker in. Shock at how good it had felt to render him in such a state in the first place. He slowly began to make his was back toward Joker.

“Joker, _no_ … I didn’t mean to… Here let me fix-”

“Stop!”

Bruce did.

“Listen… You… you can’t fix me, Batsy. I’m, broken. I will alw-, always be, broken. How...ever... much better I get, I, I, I, will still be like this! Once the glass is shattered you. Can't fit the pieces back, in place as they, were before. You can tape them, glue them, melt them onto each other again, but it will never be the same. The cracks are still there even when you cover them up. No matter how much you want to fix me, you can’t. Nobody can. Because some wounds just never heal, no matter how long you leave them. And right now, you’re the only one hurting me, Bats.”

As he spoke, his voice kept getting stronger, more passionate and angry until he stopped, glaring at Bruce in a way he'd never seen, even in their worst fights.

Bruce took Joker’s words in, felt them leave their mark on his mind, his heart. Joker had been nothing but honest. Bruce didn’t want to believe him. Not in that moment. Maybe not ever, not in this.

“I can try, Joker… I can try and maybe… Maybe…”

“Maybe what? Maybe… You’ll rehabilitate me? Maybe you’ll turn me into a model citizen? Maybe you’ll take all the unsavory pieces of me and tuck them away where they’ll never be found? I told you, it’s never going to work like that. You can’t beat me into a bloody, quivering pulp and then turn around and offer to fix me.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Joker, it was an accident, I got caught-”

“Batsy, just shut up. I’m getting real sick of your particular brand of denial. It’s fucking obvious that _you almost killed me_ just now. Literally. I’m not even being facetious. If you hadn’t let go when you did…”

Joker rubbed his neck and winced. The sight made Bruce’s heart ache. It was never his intention to hurt the man, but somehow they always ended up in a position similar to this, if less dire.

Joker gazed at him through swollen eyelids. His nose had quit bleeding, at least.

“You can’t help me if you keep hurting me like this every time I try to talk to you. If you would just admit what you wanted out of this relationship, then we’d both be much better off. But you can’t, or won’t. And I don’t have to stick around, you know. Actually, it’s probably for the best if I go now.”

With that, Joker went to stand. He was having problems with his coordination, it appeared, because he wasn’t able to get to his feet for a good while. Bruce didn’t stop him. He was still crouched down. It had begun to drizzle softly again.

“Joker, I…”

Joker mumbled something under his breath that Bruce didn’t hear.

“Joker… I…”

“Well c’mon, spit it out, Batsy! I don’t have all night! I have to get home and tend to this,” he gestured to his face and neck, “Before I get an infection.”

“I hate you.”

“I know. You’ve made that very clear.”

“I hate you.”

“You just said that. Are you the one with a concussion here?”

“Joker, I hate you.”

“Listen, I’d love to stay here all fucking night and listen to you pretend to be a record player, but as I said, I really gotta get going.”

Joker tapped his foot, glaring at Bruce with what could have been a million different emotions. Bruce couldn’t read him right then, and that scared him deeply. He was always so confident in his ability to tell what Joker was thinking, feeling, but now there was nothing. It was as if the fire in him had died the moment before the man himself would have.

“Hate means love.”

Joker cocked his head to the side, like a dog.

“What?”

“Hate means love.”

“Oh… Oh, my darling Batsy… Don’t you know it’s far too late for that?” Joker said with a small smirk. It wasn’t a happy smile. This was something bitter, angry, full of years worth of rejection and pain and abandoned dreams.

With a swish of his tailcoat, the man disappeared back into the underbelly of Gotham.

Bruce was left behind. He wasn’t sure if the wetness on his face came from tears or the rain.


End file.
